


A Moment's Rest

by linndechir



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bathing/Washing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-04-07 10:13:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19082944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linndechir/pseuds/linndechir
Summary: Alexios and Brasidas have a night to themselves before they'll have to part ways again. Alexios tries to ignore how much harder it's becoming to say farewell every time.





	A Moment's Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greygerbil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greygerbil/gifts).



The sun was setting by the time they made it up to the springs in the mountains – a steep path to climb after a long day of travelling and fighting, especially in the summer heat, but more than worth it once they arrived. Alexios had been here before on his travels, had bathed in the cool, clear water under the blossoming trees, surrounded by sweetly scented air and a rare sense of peace. There was a small village nearby where they’d be able to find a room for the night as well, once they’d cleaned off the blood, but it wasn’t only pragmatism that had led Alexios to suggest the place.

He watched Brasidas’s face as they arrived, smiled at the wondrous expression in his eyes. Spartans were maybe not known for caring much about natural beauty, but they certainly weren’t blind to it either. Neither was Alexios, though he caught himself watching Brasidas more than their surroundings, how the setting sun made his skin gleam like polished bronze, how bright his eyes were in this light, how the sweat shone on his bare arms. 

“I can see why you wanted us to climb all the way up here,” Brasidas said eventually. He went closer to the water, sandalled feet stepping carefully on the wet stones, his eyes scanning the steep rock walls that bracketed the springs from several sides – not many places from where someone could sneak up on them, and the path they had climbed up themselves had been deserted. Despite the splashing and purling of the water it was quiet enough that they would hear anyone following them up. Alexios might have mocked him for that soldier’s mindset, if he hadn’t paid attention to the same things the first time he’d been here. He was used to travelling alone; unlike Brasidas he could rarely afford to rely on another warrior to stand guard when he had to let down his own.

Alexios joined him and put one hand on the small of Brasidas’s back – it was a light touch, and Alexios doubted that Brasidas could even feel it through the cuirass, but he’d know it was there. Light enough, and high up enough that it could be discarded as friendly, meaningless, when they both knew it was anything but. They’d done this often enough by now that there was no doubt about how much they both desired each other, and yet there was always something furtive about it – a secret better not acknowledged too loudly lest someone overheard, and anyway what need was there to acknowledge it at all? Brasidas belonged to Sparta and wouldn’t have it any other way, and Alexios … Alexios knew his myths well enough to be certain that no man burdened with Heraclean tasks should waste too much time thinking about the future, not before he’d lifted those burdens from his shoulders. If there was ever a time to consider anything more than this moment, the smile on Brasidas’s lips, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes, it was not now.

Alexios ran his fingertips over a shallow scratch on Brasidas’s right arm – the one that would have been protected by the man next to him if he’d fought in a phalanx today, rather than back to back with Alexios against a small unit of Athenian soldiers that had them surrounded, and none of whom had survived their combined strength. 

“You should clean that,” he said, his voice low in the splash of the nearby waterfall, like a whispered secret from his lips to Brasidas’s ear. When Brasidas didn’t move away, when he cocked his head to the side just so, Alexios leant in closer still and kissed the back of his neck, tasted the salt of his sweat, felt the heat emanating from him. He’d slept with more than a few men in his life, soldiers and mercenaries and smiths and farmers and politicians, he’d slept with beautiful men he’d truly desired and with men who’d simply been there when he needed to scratch an itch, he’d slept with men older and younger than himself. He’d never thought himself to have a strong preference for men who looked or behaved a certain way, at least not until he’d met Brasidas and felt as if Aphrodite herself had put a veil of desire on his mind every time he looked at him. He’d rarely wanted a man so much, so intensely, and while weeks and months could pass that they were apart, and Alexios’s thoughts occasionally strayed to others, the moment he saw Brasidas again – smiling over a particularly clever plan, laughing in the heat of battle, relaxing over a cup of wine at the end of the day – he barely knew how to keep his hands to himself. The first time, the first times he’d touched him he’d thought that madness would pass, the way one sometimes hungered for a specific fruit or a cut of meat and simply needed to sate it once, but every time he touched Brasidas he only wanted him more for it.

“I should clean more than only that,” Brasidas said and laughed, wiping the sweat off his brow. Another drop of it had gathered at the nape of his neck and slowly ran down his spine, and Alexios’s tongue caught it just before it disappeared underneath the armour. Brasidas didn’t make a sound, but his breath hitched, barely perceptible if Alexios hadn’t already known to listen for it. If he’d had all the time in the world, he’d catalogue every sound he could wring from Brasidas, all the ways in which his body reacted to this touch or that. 

“So should you, for that matter,” Brasidas continued and was suddenly gone from Alexios’s touch. His hands were quick and efficient at stripping off his armour, no time or energy wasted. He bared his skin faster than Alexios had time to appreciate it – the bruises of the past few days, the old scars he’d acquired long before he and Alexios had met, and the new ones that had joined them over the years they’d known each other. Some while Alexios had been there, fighting by his side, others when they’d been far away from each other, and Alexios had only found out he’d almost lost his friend weeks or months later, when he’d returned and kissed the already scarred skin over a wound he’d never seen. And every time the thought stung more that one day, while he was on some far away isle killing bandits and thugs and running errands for someone he couldn’t simply beat the information out of, news would reach him of Brasidas’s death, that Sparta had lost one of her brightest minds and strongest arms. Or worse, that one day he’d return to Sparta full of good cheer only to be told there that Brasidas had found the glorious death in battle every Spartan so desired. Alexios was selfish enough that he hoped the gods would deny Brasidas that fate for many years to come.

They left their weapons and armour in a pile near the water, both taking care that their blades were well within reach just in case – carelessness never paid off, certainly not in times of war. The water of the spring was warm from the sun, but compared to the sweltering heat of the air it was still so refreshing that they both sighed in relief as they sank into it. Cooling down was as pleasant as washing the sweat and grime of the day off their skin and out of their hair, and even once he was clean, Alexios had no intention to leave the water just yet. Neither did Brasidas, judging by the relaxed look on his face as he sat down on one of the rocks that formed something of a natural bench, the water lapping gently around his chest, drops leaving enticing rivulets along his arms and his neck, his wet hair dripping water into his face. 

Alexios had never seen him so relaxed except right after they’d lain together, and that had never happened under circumstances remotely similar to this. Stolen moments after battles or sparring, both of them still covered in blood and sweat and with the heat of battle coursing through their veins. Brasidas pinning Alexios to a tree near an Athenian camp they’d raided, neither bothering to undress as they thrust into each other’s hands. Alexios wrestling Brasidas down in an abandoned safe house they had searched for clues, fighting each other with bare hands until they were both drenched in sweat and panting for air and covered in new bruises, Brasidas’s legs wrapped around Alexios as Alexios thrust into him, and afterwards Brasidas had still smiled and clasped his shoulder and Alexios had stopped worrying that he had ruined this, that he’d gone too far or insulted him. But the next time they had sparred – in Sparta, on the floor of the house Alexios had grown up in while Myrrine had spent the evening catching up with old friends – Brasidas had still pulled out every dirty trick he knew, and Alexios had been the one to end up on his knees, moaning and gasping around Brasidas’s strong fingers until he begged for more. And Brasidas had smiled after that, too, hadn’t said a word Alexios wouldn’t have wanted to hear, and they had spend the rest of the night sitting on the porch, drinking wine and watching the stars and not talking about how soon Alexios would have to leave Sparta again.

That had been last autumn, and they hadn’t seen each other since. That they’d run into each other now, at a Spartan camp where Alexios had claimed the bounty on a few Athenian officers he’d killed, had been mere coincidence. He hadn’t expected to be able to spend any time alone with Brasidas, but then Brasidas had decided to help Alexios take out a gang of local thugs that endangered Spartan supply lines, and a few days later here they were, successful and alone and still a day’s march away from the next Spartan camp. Without the usual rush of battle as an easy excuse, Alexios suddenly wasn’t quite sure how to reach out for him again.

So he watched him, strong fingers scratching his beard, wet skin glistening in the setting sun, and a look in his eyes that said he knew exactly what Alexios was thinking about, that the same thoughts went through his mind. 

“Come here,” Brasidas said eventually, his tone playful but still commanding, and they’d been together enough times that he must have known Alexios liked it. He still only grinned and raised an eyebrow.

“Why should I have to move? I’m comfortable.”

Brasidas laughed then, the sound as clear as the spring’s water. He looked like someone else, naked and reclining in blue water under the cherry blossoms, like a man without a care in the world, were it not for the scars on his cheek and his shoulders, reminders that just like Alexios, he was a man made for greater things than a life lived for himself.

“I promise you will enjoy what I do if you come over here,” Brasidas said, and this time curiosity won over Alexios’s desire to play coy, or maybe he simply wasn’t in the mood to make Brasidas fight for it. The day had been exhausting enough as it was. 

Gingerly he rose to his feet, careful not to slip on the wet ground as he waded over to Brasidas, stopping in front of him with the water playing around his thighs and his half-hard cock exposed. Brasidas was looking him over with a hungry expression in his eyes, and to his surprise Alexios felt himself stiffen even more from being stared at like that, from seeing that same heady desire in Brasidas’s eyes that he always felt around him. 

“I don’t believe we’ve ever done anything I _didn’t_ enjoy,” Alexios said. The impatient urgency when their blood ran hot after battle. The playful roughness when they sparred. The quiet, quick strokes under shared blankets in cold tents, biting each other’s shoulder so they wouldn’t be overheard in the middle of a Spartan camp.

Brasidas ran his hands over Alexios’s legs, starting at his knees and then further up, thumb lingering for a moment at a barely healed scratch on Alexios’s thigh. Then he leant in and kissed the thin, sensitive skin there, his lips cool from the spring water. 

“Nor I. Which is why I have no doubts you’ll enjoy this as well.” He continued to caress Alexios’s thighs, retracing the lines of his muscles, placing the occasional kiss on wet skin, his lips always lingering for a moment – and Alexios knew that there was no beauty a Spartan would ever appreciate more than that of a warrior’s body. It felt odd not to be in a hurry, neither because of his own impatience nor because they had to avoid being caught or overheard, but that didn’t make Alexios savour it any less. He ran his fingers through Brasidas’s wet hair, digging them lightly into his scalp to keep his lips on Alexios’s skin, where they followed the touch of his hands up to Alexios’s hips and his stomach, caressing and kissing, fleeting light touches that would have felt like teasing on any other day, but right now they merely made his skin prickle in anticipation. 

He wondered what it was Brasidas had in mind – if he’d maybe use his mouth to pleasure him, something neither of them had ever done for the other, even as they’d fucked each other so hard they’d ended up sore for a day after. But somehow that would have felt even more transgressive, no matter how much Alexios had enjoyed doing it with other men. But other men he’d slept with hadn’t been Brasidas, hadn’t even been Spartan. 

Instead Brasidas’s hands came to rest on Alexios’s hips and urged him to turn around, their touch gentle but firm. This time Brasidas caressed the dimples on Alexios’s back, kissed them one after the other with a soft sigh of desire and appreciation, before his hands returned to Alexios’s thighs. They slid down once and then back up until they cupped Alexios’s cheeks, rough callouses catching on sensitive skin.

“I take it you’re enjoying the view?” Alexios asked with a laugh. It almost made him feel a little nervous, ridiculous as that was, to be so exposed and looked at, even as it made his cock harden and twitch to feel how much Brasidas wanted him.

His only reply was a soft chuckle against his skin, and then Brasidas rubbed his cheek against Alexios’s ass – that damned beard that filled Alexios’s fantasies in lonely nights, the memory of how it felt against his throat and his chest and the back of his neck. Here its light scratch, made softer by the water that still clung to it, was even more maddening, and Alexios adjusted his stance a little to make sure he wouldn’t sway on his feet.

Not being able to see Brasidas added a certain thrill to this, and if it wasn’t for their breathtaking surroundings, he would have simply closed his eyes to do nothing but feel. Brasidas’s fingers were still on his ass, at first merely groping it aimlessly – reminding Alexios of how Brasidas had clung to him when Alexios had last fucked him, fingers digging in just like they did now, pulling Alexios close and demanding more – but then they spread his cheeks more deliberately. Alexios would have squirmed if he’d been lying down, but as it was he merely shuddered. He felt exposed, vulnerable almost, and then all he felt was the firm swipe of Brasidas’s tongue over his hole.

It took him a moment to realise that’s what it was, because certainly no man he’d ever been with had done _that_ to him before. At first he thought it had been merely a whim of the moment, but Brasidas didn’t pull away. His hands kept Alexios open and firmly pressed against his face, and his tongue kept lapping at him – the full breadth of it at first, but then it was just the tip teasingly circling Alexios’s hole. The contrast between that soft, strange touch and the familiar scratch of Brasidas’s beard were maddening, and without thinking Alexios reached behind himself to keep Brasidas right there. He had to fumble a little to grab Brasidas’s braid and wrap it around his hand, then splayed his palm against the back of his head. 

Rather than complaining Brasidas let out an encouraging moan that seemed to vibrate right through Alexios. He was enjoying this, Alexios’s addled mind realised. His tongue kept teasing and probing, only stopping every now and then when Brasidas kissed the soft skin instead, or let his teeth graze over it. It felt nothing like the same caresses from his fingers ever had, so much better that Alexios desperately wished he were lying down because his knees were shaking. He let out a string of curses when Brasidas’s tongue swiped again over his hole and then pushed inside him, wet and hot and soft, and despite the thickness it was so easy to take, so good that Alexios heard himself whimper.

“By the gods, Brasidas –“ he started and promptly forgot whatever it was he’d wanted to say. His eyes had fluttered shut despite himself, he held on so tightly to Brasidas’s hair that it must have hurt, but he didn’t hear any complaints from him, only low moans and the wet slide of tongue against skin as Brasidas all but fucked him with his tongue, slower than he ever had with his cock, making Alexios savour every second of it, every little touch. It felt unbearably good and nowhere near enough, but when Alexios reached down with his free hand to touch his own cock where it was twitching against his stomach, he heard a low growl behind him, and Brasidas pulled away just enough that he could speak again.

“Later,” he said, his voice a little hoarse, and he sounded almost smug when he added, “if you still need it.”

Alexios bit back a curse, but he still kept his hand to himself. He’d rather have Brasidas touch him than do it himself, even if it meant waiting, even if waiting seemed unthinkable when Brasidas went back to licking into him, again and again until Alexios all but whimpered in frustration. Just as he thought he couldn’t bear it anymore, Brasidas pushed a finger into him, his tongue back to teasing the sensitive skin around his hole while his finger finally reached deep enough to give Alexios what he wanted. 

Usually they didn’t bother much with that, always far too impatient to use their fingers for more than easing the way with a bit of oil, but right now Brasidas didn’t seem to be in a hurry to pull back and have Alexios bend over. Instead he appeared to be perfectly happy to keep doing this, his tongue and fingers working together to drive every sane thought from Alexios’s mind. It shouldn’t have felt so overwhelming, when that one finger was so much _less_ than a cock, but Brasidas knew exactly where to touch him, how fast or how slow he had to take it, and he didn’t seem to tire of what he was doing. Still seemed to enjoy it, actually, judging by the occasional breathless gasp against Alexios’s skin.

Again Alexios wanted to touch himself, desperate for relief, but with Brasidas’s finger fucking him he wasn’t entirely sure he would need that anymore, as Brasidas had said. He felt as if all his nerves were burning, felt as if he’d been struck by lightning, as if what Brasidas was doing to him was more than he could take, relentlessly driving him towards the bliss he couldn’t quite reach.

“Damn you, you – I need …” It was hard to think, even harder to speak, to form any other words than “please” and “now” and “more”, to do anything but curse when Brasidas’s tongue suddenly stopped teasing him.

“So take what you need,” Brasidas said quietly, his voice hoarse and as impatient as Alexios felt. He’d pulled back a bit, but his finger stayed inside Alexios, right where it was even as Alexios turned around to face him again. Once again Alexios grabbed Brasidas’s braid, pulled a little to make him look up, and found him flushed underneath his beard, his lips red and parted, his eyes glassy with desire. If he’d been able to think clearly, Alexios would have simply rubbed his cock over Brasidas’s face, against his beard, would have stroked himself until he could watch himself come on his face. But all he could think about was Brasidas’s tongue, and so he pushed his cock against Brasidas’s lips, his other hand keeping him in place, groaning in relief when rather than pulling away Brasidas simply opened his mouth to take him inside. 

Alexios kept looking down at him, meeting his eyes in the fading light. The wet heat alone was almost enough to make him lose what bit of restraint he had left, and when Brasidas hummed encouragingly around his cock, Alexios pushed in deeper. He was still holding on to his braid, kept him in place as he fucked into his mouth. Too fast, too deep, but even as he felt Brasidas gag a little, he didn’t try to stop him, one hand grabbing Alexios’s hips hard enough to bruise, and one finger still inside him. It was too much, too many different sensations when one of them alone would have been enough to make Alexios forget his own name, and it didn’t take long until he spilt into Brasidas’s mouth. He didn’t let go of Brasidas’s hair until he’d watched him swallow, but when he pulled back, his cock sliding wetly out of his mouth, there was nevertheless a trickle of come that rolled over Brasidas’s lips into his beard. Somehow Brasidas still managed to look quite smug and pleased with himself. The sight made Alexios laugh breathlessly.

“Yes, yes, you told me so,” he said. He stroked Brasidas’s hair more gently than before, down to the nape of his neck. Between the water and Alexios’s pulling, the braid had come apart, but Alexios would be happy enough to rebraid it for him later.

“That I did.” Brasidas licked his lips, tongue catching what bit of come had escaped him before, then gathered a little spring water in his hands to rinse his mouth and to wash the fresh sweat from his face. Alexios put a hand on his shoulder to lean on him, his legs still shaky as if he’d just run up that mountain path, and after a moment he simply sank back down in the cool water beside him. Something tightened in his chest when Brasidas simply put an arm around him to pull him close. Alexios turned his head to nuzzle his neck, kissing the wet skin, rubbing his cheek against Brasidas’s beard.

“I don’t think I can match you right now,” he said and laughed a little, but his hand was already under the water, stroking up Brasidas’s thigh until he reached his cock. He’d known Brasidas had enjoyed this, but it still made his breath catch to find him hard as a rock when Alexios had barely touched him so far. 

“Oh, I have no objections to you owing me, my friend,” Brasidas replied, leaning his head against Alexios’s. “And the last thing I would want right now is to move from this place the gods have smiled on.”

“I owe you now, is that it?” Alexios laughed again. He tightened his fingers around Brasidas’s cock, remembering just how he liked it. Slow but firm, with Alexios’s thumb rubbing over the soft skin just below the head. He closed his eyes and simply listened to the way Brasidas’s breath caught, so very quiet until the first moans started spilling from his lips, only half muffled where he pressed his face against Alexios’s hair. It was slower than what they’d usually done in the past, gentler, oddly more intimate. It felt – like something other than two soldiers finding quick relief with each other after battle, something other than two friends enjoying each other’s company a little more than was considered proper. Not that Alexios cared about such things, but Brasidas must have. He was a proper Spartan, and Alexios doubted he’d ever made a habit of taking a _misthios_ to his bed before. Not that they’d ever made it into an actual bed. 

They didn’t speak any more while Alexios stroked him to completion, and as he got close, Brasidas cupped Alexios’s cheek and kissed him, deep and breathless and lingering, moaning open-mouthed against his lips as he came in his hand. His eyes were still closed, but that same smile as earlier was lingering on his lips. Alexios wondered what it meant, and decided that it was best if it meant nothing at all.

Later, as the moon was slowly rising above them, Alexios watched Brasidas light a torch. He was still naked, his skin mostly dried in the remaining warmth of the day, but a few drops still clung to him, sliding down his spine or catching in the small of his back. Alexios stepped closer to kiss him again, a slow, gentle thing that he wouldn’t have bothered with if he’d been with anyone else. Brasidas smiled against his lips, then leant his forehead against Alexios’s with a quiet sigh. They stayed like that for a few moments, until Alexios suddenly pulled back. Then they dressed in silence, and it occurred to Alexios how out of place he felt once his armour was back on, his weapons strapped to his side and back. This place really seemed far too peaceful for the kind of men they both were, deadly and determined and both needed elsewhere.

Tomorrow Brasidas would return to his men, and Alexios had found a new clue to follow up on, down in Attika. Athenian-controlled territory. Even Alexios wasn’t particularly welcome there now that he’d officially regained his Spartan citizenship, but people still saw him as a _misthios_ above all else, someone whose loyalty could easily be bought with a few coins. Brasidas on the other hand … even if he’d had a good reason to go there, he was far too well known to risk it. And the way the war was going, who knew when they’d next see each other? Who knew if they’d both still be alive then? It took so little to take down even the most experienced, skilled warrior – a sword in the back while he was distracted by another enemy, a poisoned blade nicking his thigh, an arrow he never saw coming, a festering wound. For men like them, death in battle was a question of when rather than if.

When Alexios tore himself out of his maudlin thoughts, he found Brasidas looking at him. His brow was furrowed, his hand had stilled while closing the straps of his second vambrace. He looked like himself again, and Alexios already missed him before they’d even parted ways.

He averted his gaze when Brasidas stepped closer, down at Brasidas’s clasping his elbow. Those strong, blunt fingers, as capable in battle as in more private ventures. Heat swelled up in him when he thought of where those fingers had been not too long ago, how good they had made him feel.

“Come back with me,” Brasidas said suddenly, his eyes and his voice far too serious. Alexios looked up in surprise. “Sparta could use a warrior like you, and I could use you by my side. Isn’t it time you came home? You’ve earned it.”

Alexios swallowed. He longed for nothing more – for himself as much as for his mother, and his father, wherever he was right now –, for a place to call home again, and if that place included Brasidas, all the better. He wouldn’t have to miss him then. Wouldn’t have to worry about him dying hundreds of leagues away without the power to stop it.

“You know there is an another war to be fought than the one between Sparta and Athens. If the Cult isn’t destroyed, it barely matters who wins, and I’m the only one who can stop them. Who can stop my sister.” Stop her, and bring her home if he could, for mother’s sake and for his own, because how would he ever find peace if he had to murder his own little sister for it? 

Brasidas sighed and looked away, lowering his hand.

“You’re right. It was a foolish notion. You are Spartan, after all, and we don’t run from fights. Or from our duties.”

“I didn’t know there was a difference between the two in Sparta,” Alexios said, teasing, just to see the smile return to Brasidas’s face. It worked, but the sadness in his eyes lingered.

“There is. Some duties are much harder than fighting, or dying,” he said. He was still so close that Alexios only had to reach out a little to pull him closer. He smelled clean, like himself and nothing else, and Alexios buried his face against Brasidas’s neck to breathe him in. 

“When this is over –“ he started, but he didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Not merely because he had no idea if this would ever be over, when the Cult felt like a hydra that grew new heads every time he chopped one of them off, when it seemed to wait for him everywhere he went, with more resources at its disposal than any king. He didn’t know either what life would be like if this ever _was_ over. He’d been away from Sparta for so long that it was hard to imagine himself living there again, for good. To imagine having his family back. He didn’t know what that life would be like, and how Brasidas would fit into it. How much he’d want to fit into it.

But Brasidas nodded as if he’d understood even when Alexios himself did not. He ran his fingertips over Alexios’s cheek when Alexios raised his head again, his touch as fleeting as the short time they had together.

“Don’t die before that,” Alexios added, because saying that was easy enough. “You’ll still have enough opportunities for a glorious death later.”

Brasidas laughed again, his frown and the serious look in his eyes gone as quickly as they’d come. Alexios appreciated that he hadn’t insisted, hadn’t tried to talk him into something they both knew was impossible. Maybe that would change one day, and all they could do until then was survive.

“I’m not in a hurry to die, and not only because Sparta still needs me. Who else is going to welcome you back home when the time comes?”

He clasped Alexios’s shoulder, a gesture that was more companionable than anything else, and then he stepped back before Alexios got another chance to pull him close again. Brasidas gathered his spear and shield and the torch he’d lit, to light them both the way back down the mountain path. They still had to find a place to stay for the night, and lingering here wouldn’t give them any more time until morning and their inevitable farewell. If only it were that simple, that they could hide away from the world for a while.

Alexios sighed, gathered his weapons, and followed Brasidas. Maybe there would be more time for such things once all this was over. They both had more than enough reasons now to make sure they lived to see that day. And maybe some day after that, many years from now, they would die fighting side by side. If that was how they would both find their way to Hades, Alexios would gladly go.


End file.
